


Everyone's Got an Opinion

by matrixrefugee



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Miracle Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matrixrefugee/pseuds/matrixrefugee
Summary: A frazzled grocery clerk and her co-workers muse about the Miracle, and then a (to us) familiar face comes through her lane...





	Everyone's Got an Opinion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](https://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/profile)[fic_promptly](https://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/) [Any, any, the end of the world.](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/180262.html?thread=7871014&format=light#cmt7871014). Set during the early episodes, contains an utterly shameless self-insert, though for security reasons, I changed the me-analogue's name. I did use a name that my folks *almost* named me, so perhaps I'm called that in the Who-niverse. Also features a pet theory of mine as to when Miracle Day actually happened (I placed it starting around Easter).

Saturdays in the grocery store usually brought a lot of customers, but Allison had not seen it like this since one of the last snowstorms, and here it was just past Easter. The lines extended into the front main aisle and into the aisles themselves. The managers had to resort to crowd control to keep the lines moving. Around eleven a.m., they ran out of milk in the dairy department and the crowd started to turn ugly: "Our kids need milk." -- "They're gonna starve!" -- "It's the end of the world out there and you don't have enough milk?!" The cooler heads resorted to fetching the soy milk and rice milk in the no refrigeration required containers, but that supply had it's limits as well.

"Where do they all come from?" she murmured to Bobbie, the cashier, during a rare pause around twelve thirty p.m., when folks were likely home having lunch or had run on to the next errand. Her arms ached from lifting gallons of milk and flats of bottled water.

"Yeah, it's been crazy even for a Saturday," Bobbie replied, leaning against the register, as she set to work spraying the belt down with glass cleaner before mopping it dry with some paper towels. "Think this is because of the Miracle?"

"Danged if I know," Allison said, taking off her glasses, pushing her fringe out of her eyes, and kneading her forehead with the heels of her hands. "I mean, if it's true that no one dies, why are people so worried about not having enough food in the house? I would think that would mean you can eat less and not worry about starving."

"I guess people just get panicky when something happens that they can't comprehend, so they do what they know or think they know, to get through it," Bobbie replied.

"Can't be too hard on them, in that case; no one knows what to expect from this, because it's never happened before," Allison replied, looking out through the front windows that looked out over the parking lot. More cars had started to file in, filling the spaces that had emptied out earlier.

"So what was your reaction, when you first heard about the Miracle?" Bobbie asked.

Allison turned away from the window. "I didn't really believe the first accounts: I figured the hospitals had goofed and mistaken someone in a deep coma for someone who'd died."

"What about that Oswald Danes case?" Bobbie asked.

"I figured the chemicals had mixed wrong and the creep just managed to live through it. That does happen from time to time," Allison replied. "Thing is, they end up in vegetative states afterward."

"But you knew something was up when you heard he was up and about like nothing had happened?" Bobbie asked.

"Yeah, that was definitely cause for alarm," Allison replied. "And it happened around Easter, too. It's like someone or something planned it."

At that moment, Sammy Corwin came along, sweeping the floor with the dry mop, collecting the dust and detrius left behind during the rush. "I say it's the government, experimenting on people," he said, interjecting himself into the conversation.

Allison looked at him over her glasses. "Except that MK-ULTRA happened back in the 1960s," she said. "Or you've been mainlining _The X-Files_ on NetFlix a few times too many."

"Like you can talk, with the British sci-fi series," Sammy replied. Then with a very bad bogus British accent, he added, "Pip, pip, cheerio. Off to be space fox 'unting in me spaceship."

"Oh, everybody's got their theories and concerns about the Miracle," Bobbie replied diplomatically.

"Can't say I've heard of space foxes and the last time I heard a British guy say 'pip, pip, cheerio' was the 1950s," interjected a cheerfully loudish baritenor voice from the top end of the lane. Allison looked up to find the speaker and found herself gazing up at a dark, roguish-looking fellow in a long grey coat with a military cut to it.

"Oops, we got company," Bobbie said, switching on the conveyor belt. "Sorry about that: we got chatting about the Miracle."

"Everybody's talking about it, or fretting about it," Allison said. "Paper or plastic?"

"Paper'll do: never cared much for plastic. Guess that makes me an old-fashioned character," the customer said.

"Old-fashioned is a good thing: I've been accused of being that myself," Allison replied, pulling a paper sack out from the cubbyhole at the end of the register and unfolding the bag, as the conveyor belt brought down the roguish fellow's order. A couple boxes of crackers, some bags of dried fruit, tinned sardines: the guy didn't seem homeless, but she had a feeling he was "living rough" in some form or another.

"Ahh, it's all relative anyway: same goes for time itself," the rogue said, as Allison handed the bag over, her hand inadvertently brushing the gent's hand. "And don't let yer jealous coworker get to you: there's plenty to go around." She wondered what he meant by that, then she glanced to her right to spy Sammy pretending to go over a tricky spot of tile, when instead, he kept giving the roguish customer a dirty look.

Bobbie waited till the rogue had gone on his way -- dropping a wink to both Allison and Bobbie and to Sammy, who looked vaguely offended and nervous -- before speaking the comment on her mind. "That guy seemed like a character."

"Looked like the heroic lead in some World War II movie," Allison said, feeling her cheeks warming.

"Looked like some pushy queer to me: how can you stand him trying to mack on you and me both?" Sammy growled.

"Well, it's not like we've got to worry about venereal disease, thanks to the Miracle," Allison said, wanting to punch Sammy in the mouth, but not daring to on shift. And the attention from the handsome rogue had her in too good a mood to let his small mindedness get her down.


End file.
